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User blog:Cfp3157/Top Ten Most Personal Films
Cinefix has recently decided to upload lists of two of their senior members, named simply Billy and Clint, most personal films of their lives at the moment. These lists aren't meant to be based on quality, or even really personal preference; they're the films that define who they are. For me, that's a fascinating conversation to have and learn for someone about to try and enter the film industry. So, I've decided to upload my own here as well. These are the movies that made Cfp into Cfp. I believe film, above all else, is a teacher, and she has taught me many things. The lessons that the silver screen gave me are going to stick with me for a long time, and these are the films that taught me those lessons. This list, like the Cinefix ones, aren't meant to try and be recognized as the best made, or the greatest, or even the most entertaining. Rather, these are the films that taught me very important lessons about not just film, but life itself. Due to that, these aren't listed in any sort of priority or ranking except for the final slot. The Lesson: Film is Timeless One of the most difficult things a person can do is revisit a beloved memory, only for them to realize in hindsight it's tainted by the reality of the product. On the flip side, though, nothing is more satisfying than the moment one realizes the nostalgia is warranted and a film remains standing tall no matter what your age, mindset, and personality has changed into. Good films are like that; they stand the test of time, giving the same quality stories and the same palpable emotions when they've collected dust on their shelves. So to begin, I'm looking back at my childhood. What are the films that, even looking back now, I can still say are quality and enjoyable pictures? Disney and Pixar mostly occupy this list, with special citations in particular to The Lion King as the best animated film period, as well as The Incredibles and The Iron Giant. However cartoons aren't the only films that can be seen as great with or without rose-tinted glasses; Star Wars remains a staple both of my own childhood and the childhood of millions of people, while I still want to reenact the sword battles of Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. But what really proves the timeless nature of a good movie? To answer that question in the best and most honest way I can, I'll have to go to the first film I've ever watched. That belongs to... Raiders of the Lost (1981) - dir. by Steven Spielberg Where to begin? As a child, what amazed me about Raiders of the Lost Ark was its cool action setpieces, suave and cool action hero, and just how awesome it was to see Indy beat up people, escape traps, and get the girl. But now, even looking back with a much more critical eye, I notice things I wouldn't have as a child or from memory of nostalgia. John Williams' iconic and energizing score, Michael Kahn's efficient and upbeat editing, and the astoundingly gripping practical effects that hold up nearly forty years later. It's the kind of film that has been called by many to be "iconic", and one of the few to have earned it- for me, at least. The Lesson: Film Deserves A Second Chance As a companion to the previous piece, film is an art form that always deserves a revisitation. Much like people, the first impression is not always the greatest, and giving a movie a second chance could not only change your opinion on the individual film, but reorganize what aspects of film deserve merit and why you dislike or love something to begin with. Film deserves a second chance, because there are always going to be lessons gained that weren't there the first time. So what are some movies that looked shinier the second time around? To start more recently, the invigorating Birdman, or (the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is not just a good film but a great one thanks to its artistic and technical achievements, while Guardians of the Galaxy hides just how heartfelt and intelligent it is as a film beneath its abundant humor and colorful effects. The social commentary of The Truman Show was lost beneath its humor upon first viewing, while Halloween isn't just terrifying but a masterful accomplishment of technical filmmaking. But those are all examples of films going from good to great. More often than not, film goes in the opposite direction from good to bad. However, only one film has gone from bad to great, and the film is... Batman Begins (2005) - dir. by Christopher Nolan I'll be honest...I fell asleep the very first time I watched Batman Begins. I was (and still am) a Spider-Man guy, so the dark, realistic tone of Nolan's first foray into the Caped Crusader's stories bored my small, elementary school mind when compared to Raimi's trilogy of color and fun. But as I got older, the surprising amount of love and respect for the very first film I saw in a theater drew me back to it. Upon second glance, I was immediately swept away by the powerful performances, masterful storytelling, and gripping action. The moment Christian Bale first utters those haunting, growling words as he takes to the night, I realized I had a reason to love Batman now. The Lesson: Film Creates Empathy Time for a more traditional lesson, one that even the most uneducated and least critical of moviegoers could tell you; film is designed to make you feel. And not just the simple emotions of anger, or fear, or love, or hate, or the mirage of other emotions. No, film also makes you feel for your fellow human beings; it teaches you how to understand and love someone not real, how to care for someone with nothing in common with you. In learning the ultimate lesson of empathy and human decency, I have a myriad of options to choose from thanks to my unique position in life as an adoptee. Familial love is a huge lesson learned thanks to movies, from a father's perspective in Big Fish and a mother's in Boyhood, as well as the power of a sibling's bond in Brother Bear. Understanding the lives of another person's in relation to race is clearly evident in Straight Outta Compton, just like the trials of those of a different gender in Mulan. These biological differences aren't the only ones tackled; Schindler's List for religion, The Pursuit of Happyness for wealth, and Brokeback Mountain for love. But those aren't the differences that stick out for me. The one kind of lifestyle I could never imagine is that of a soldier, someone who willingly sacrifices their lives for people they've never met. And while many war films do this, none hit me on viewing quite like... Saving Private Ryan (1998) - dir. by Steven Spielberg I've made my critical thoughts clear about the film itself multiple times, but something that may get lost in the shuffle about the talk of quality is the feelings it creates. Saving Private Ryan made something very clear to me that other films just haven't quite done yet; it shows me that I don't know the horrors of war. Watching it onscreen, even with the hyper-realistic style of filming Spielberg uses and the emotional gut punches he creates, doesn't come close to what actual battle feels like. It's a perfect love letter for those in the military precisely because it doesn't always try to put you in that battlefield; it doesn't ask for you to think and feel like a soldier, but instead to think and feel for those soldiers. It does that exceedingly well. The Lesson: Film Emulates You In a total 180 from the last choice, film also does a create job of reaching into stories about you, to you. It helps make stories from far away planets, distant countries, and alien cultures find the sweet spot for the viewer that makes it seem like it was told just for you. Film creates stories that are shared for everyone, about everyone. As an individual person, my many differences that make me hard to categorize also make me reach out to multiple groups. I claimed last year that Lion is essentially my story, and while it may be the most literal version of this lesson it's not quite what I mean. High school movies are guilty of this often, and the best example is the slick coolness of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The underdog story is another favorite for this lesson, and the champion of this style of filmmaking is Rocky. I can easily relate to the troubled genius of the titular character in Good Will Hunting as he overcomes adversity and his insecurities, and (500) Days of Summer very accurately and at times painfully shows the tumbles of falling in- and out of- love. Capturing what makes me, me, though, is a far more complicated task than most would give credit for. Despite that, though, one film managed to take all the quirks of mine- my love for the arts, my overly optimistic view on life, what falling in love feels like for me- and it's called... Moulin Rouge! (2001) - dir. by Baz Luhrmann A more traditional choice would be Luhrmann's earlier work Romeo + Juliet, but no film made me scream "That's me!" like this messy jukebox musical. Not only does it fully embrace its weirdness and bright, bombastic personality like I try to do, but the earnest heart it wears on its sleeve is the kind of honesty I also seek to emulate. It's an absolutely bonkers movie, no doubt about that, but its technical feats often overshadow that core message of love and beauty for the here and now. Plus, it helps that it checks off a lot of my own personal boxes for enjoyment, featuring catchy musical numbers, luscious setpieces, a dastardly villain, a beautiful woman, and a protagonist named Christian. The Lesson: Life Doesn't Always Get A Happy Ending A more powerful lesson, not about filmmaking but instead life. Unlike most fictional stories, life doesn't always reward based on good deeds and heroic feats. Life can beat you down, spit on you, and tear out your very soul, and it won't give you a chance for retribution. It's a harsh lesson that most in my generation haven't truly learned yet, but it's one films usually help with along the way. The tragedies of the world come in many shapes and sizes, and not all are equally miserable. The lack of a happy ending is the most basic, with the depressive and despairing nature of films like Se7en and Primal Fear take this notion to its darkest core. Sometimes it's about the lack of such a concrete resolution, where the options for the hero are bad and worse such as in Shutter Island or Black Swan. It's when the villain triumphs like No Country for Old Men, or when good men are turned cruel such as Citizen Kane. But the worst case is the moment the hero has finally evolved, learned their lesson, and truly seized victory, only for it to be taken away in an instant. Sometimes it's not even their fault, as in... American History X (1998) - dir. by Tony Kaye Derek Vinyard, portrayed magnificently in a decade-defining performance by Edward Norton, goes from being the most despicable and hateful human being on the earth to one who has truly changed for the better. He's not completely clean- his temper is still present, while the consequences of his past life remain to be dealt with- but he evolves and changes in a way that can't help but satisfy. His emotional journey isn't manipulative either, with his hate being based in misguided reason and his anger a masquerade for an empathetic core, and how his arc develops is fantastic. But the power of hate triumphs in this film, and the lesson learned from this film isn't just about race or anger; nor is it about the intense unfairness of life. Instead, its lesson is much darker and more depressing; life simply does not care. The Lesson: People Will Always Persevere Once again, a radical turn in the opposite direction. Just as often as life beating you down, it offers the right people and right circumstances for you to pick yourself up. The challenges and trials of every human are unique, but whether it be through faith, friendship, or love, human beings have a way of pushing through. Films can offer that kind of catharsis just as easily as any other therapy. This isn't an example of good to great; these films make their protagonists work for their goals, and the successes of these films are often earned with blood, sweat, and tears. It's the human spirit's triumphant in Precious, or how a man carries himself through life with nothing but his smile and strength in Forrest Gump. The confines and destruction of prisons break down the soul but not the spirit in Shawshank Redemption, while Brooklyn shows the importance of staying true to oneself when faced with a new home, and the kind of love needed to make it your own. Challenges are most interesting when they come from within oneself, because these problems are rooted in a character's core. Tackling those inner demons is a human experience, captured perfectly for me in... The Perks of Being A Wallflower (2012) - dir. by Stephen Chbosky Perhaps my age shows a lot by this choosing, but the trials and tribulations of Charlie in The Perks of Being A Wallflower reach deep into my own personal life. The paradoxical warm inviting nature of Charlie contrasts with his cold and distant mind, while the other characters mesh perfectly into his life while forming their own, unique stories. It's the kind of growing up that is closely linked to my own, and its his eventual triumph despite his damaged past and psyche that most grips me, even upon later rewatches. Logan Lerman gives an astounding performance as the character, perhaps the greatest performance by a youth in the century. The Lesson: Film Doesn't Have to Be Perfect All art is subjective, with film being no exception. It has the singular ability to combine music, color, and performance into powerful, magical moments that no other form of art can rival. Very few films are worthy of being called perfect, while many often straggle that line between good and mediocre. What pushes them to the former is their sheer entertainment value. Films don't have to be high tier art or expressions of the human condition; they can just be plain old fun. As I've aged out of my snobby film criticism personality when I first took movies seriously, I've come to appreciate films that take their time to let loose rather than stick up their noses. Nobody's gonna accuse Terminator 2: Judgement Day or Mad Max: Fury Road as creating challenging, revolutionizing stories, but they're also never going to be called boring or bad films. Crazy, Stupid, Love is an endearing classic and favorite, not because it features groundbreaking thoughts on love but because it celebrates the clichés in full adore, while the trashy but steamy Mr. and Mrs. Smith was my first ever guilty pleasure film. Big studio franchise tentpoles are the biggest culprits in this particular field, often relying on their wit, color, and characters to grab hold of viewers for future tickets. But its not always dumb action with the best such as... The Avengers (2012) - dir. by Joss Whedon This is fan pleasing to the absolute max, but it's in the best way possible. Watching modern day icons like Robert Downey Jr.'s Iron Man, Chris Evans' Captain America, and Tom Hiddleston's Loki all finally play in the same sandbox is an achievement by itself. It's arguably a historic film, setting the pace for the future of the film industry we see currently today. But take away that precedent, and what remains is a wholly engaging and fun film about superheroes fighting aliens and saving the day; what more could you ask for? The Lesson: Film is an Artform Film ultimate is art, however, and there's a technical and storytelling craft that goes into the best films. There's a level of auteur creation that goes into every film, and often allows them to stand the test of time. Filmmakers are meant to make for others, but they're also artists who create for themselves. Film isn't just popcorn fun to distract; it's art meant to engage. Growing older and developing a more focused interest in film, I started to notice certain aspects of filmmaking that are impossible to ignore and stand out fantastically to this day. Roger Deakins is the most literal creator of art in film, with his moving paintings and astounding imagery showing itself most powerfully in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, while there's an astounding level of musical mastery displayed by the musical work of Hans Zimmer in 12 Years A Slave. Steve McQueen gets a second mention with his subtle but powerful storytelling in Shame, as does Aaron Sorkin's contrasting well-oiled machine of The Social Network. But nobody shows their distinct ability as an artist in filmmaking like Martin Scorsese. The man's the master of the craft, and any one of his films outshines the others mentioned in the idea of "film is art.". His pinnacle remains to be... The Departed (2006) - dir. by Martin Scorsese Every moving piece of this film falls perfectly into place, thanks to an entire ensemble of artists working together to create a fascinating film. Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Wahlberg, Jack Nicholson, Alec Baldwin, Matt Damon, and Martin Sheen all hit the right notes as performers, with their dedication to their craft showing itself in every frame. Thelma Schoonmaker's editing is iconic, with her fast pace and electric tone easily letting the film breeze by, while William Monahan recreates another film while putting his own American, Bostonian touches on it. The production recreates Boston in New York City to perfection, with Michael Ballhaus capturing the magic as cinematographer. With Martin Scorsese pulling the strings, my first G.O.A.T. was born. The Lesson: Film Has A Message It's as old as time itself; every story has its purpose. While some films' purpose may just be pure entertainment, many try to put themselves above it. Some of the most well-known and iconic films often offer a harrowing but necessary mirror to the world and time they're created in. Films, like all stories, have a moral and a message; they have a reason to exist. The kinds of challenging films, ethically, morally, or emotionally, are the kinds of films that will stick with me the longest. Martin Scorsese once again comes up, with his own challenging confrontation with religion echoing my own in Silence, while the questions of leadership and politics are prevalent in The Ides of March. Justice, and how to pursue it, are interesting to look at when put under the microscope of A Few Good Men, as well as a companion court room drama in To Kill A Mockingbird. It's hard to imagine a world without Do the Right Thing, Boyz in the Hood, or even X-Men. Film proves its importance in carrying messages thanks to the entirely different way documentaries are embraced compared to biographical novels or pictures of historical figures. The way fact is presented is itself art, proven with... 13th (2015) - dir. by Ava DuVernay Perhaps it's cheating to put a documentary as the defining film about delivering a message, but I'll allow it. Not only does it present credible and reliable sources for its information, but the way Ava DuVernay and Spencer Averick weave together a story about the collective history of the United States is a bold but successful endeavor. Feeling more like the biopic of an iconic figure than a critical analysis of the prison system, 13th chugs along effortlessly as it presents what it has to say; without bias, without prejudice, and without judgement, letting it rest solely on its facts and in doing so its laurels. The Lesson: The One that Started It All Jurassic Park (1993) - dir. by Steven Spielberg I can pinpoint exactly each time I've watched Jurassic Park, and what each individual viewing has taught me. My first time seeing it, I want to say I was about seven years old and still in my zookeeper phase. I realized how awesome movies were; dinosaurs were real, and Steven Spielberg made them real! I was scared of the raptors prowling the kitchens, I was in awe with seeing a brachiosaurus grazing, I felt pity when I saw a sick triceratops, and I was in total, dumbstruck amazement when the T-Rex stood triumphant in the ruins of a museum. The feeling I felt on my first viewing of Jurassic Park can't quite be described now, but whether it's due to memory loss or it being genuinely life-changing I can't be sure. It was likely a combination of both. On second viewing, I know I was 15 years old. My sophomore year of secondary school, I was visiting family members for a graduation party. I was channel surfing between the festivities, and I stumbled upon it again. I knew I was soon approaching the time when I'd have to make some decisions about my future, and those feelings were scary. But watching Jurassic Park, travelling once again to Isla Nublar with Alan Grant, Ian Malcolm, and Ellie Satler immediately took my thoughts away from that. I actually started to appreciate the subtler touches of the film, how it holds up, how colorful it really is, and how music plays a huge role in letting it succeed. It helped me process the idea of being in the film industry. And most recently, my senior year in high school. In my application to college, they asked for a personal essay about any topic of choice. It was unrelated to their film department, and was meant to write about anything. Although not my first instinct, I ultimately ended up writing about the effects Jurassic Park had on me. I talked about how I wanted to make those same kinds of stories, to define childhoods and become iconic like that. I talked about how, as someone who was adopted, I was obligated to fully utilize my talents and gifts and put them into something that warranted my second chance. Finally, I talked about how I loved movies, and it was Jurassic Park that taught me that. That was when I watched it the third, and most recent, time. Category:Blog posts